Red Domain Blue Box
by Elphaba-TheDefiant
Summary: When Clara and the Doctor save a young girl they find out something very sinister: this girl was supposed to have been brutally murdered ten years ago by a serial killer known as Red John. If this is true, who is she and how is she alive? Meanwhile, Patrick Jane's life is thrown into chaos, as people he thought dead return to his life. A collab fic with Moon Lantern!


**A/N: Hello my darlings! This new story of mine is actually a collaboration fic with the lovely Moon Lantern! I hope you enjoy it and the credit for this goes to Moon :P**

Chapter 1- The Jane Identity

"Ah ha!" yelled the Doctor. "Clara, guess what our acute distress sensors have just picked up!"

"Would I be right in thinking that it has something to do with distress?" Clara asked, knowing the answer, as the TARDIS quaked and sped towards an unknown target for the millionth tine.

The Doctor frowned and grabbed on to the restrainers, while Clara already hung on, as if her life was in the balance. The Doctor had told his TARDIS to make sure no harm came to Clara, or else; it wasn't often the Doctor made this sort of demand.

"Where's the distress signal coming from?" Clara asked, over the convulsions of the ship.

The Doctor looked at the screen and furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "It's coming from a desert! In Sacramento, California!"

Before Clara could express any disbelief or query any further, the TARDIS seemingly collided with something with a gunshot like bang and a crunch, before coming to a halt.

Clara's heart skipped a beat, and she had to breath deeply to avoid having a trembling fit. "Doctor, what just happened?"

The Doctor inhaled, with a look of panic upon his face. This had never happened before.

Quickly, he dashed out of his ship, an arid breeze reaching his nose as he stepped into the baking sun; suddenly, his bow tie feeling reduntant. The scorching sand blew on to him, as he begrudgingly eased it off.

"Clara, I think you better take a look at this!"

Clara slowly peered out of the TARDIS, holding her breath as to what she might find. The blazing heat was only surpassed in arousing intrigue by a blonde girl dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jogging bottoms, who was breathing laboriously, with her eyes closed.

"I hope we didn't knock into you," Clara said, walking towards her. "Are you all right?"

The girl looked about fifteen or sixteen years old; she rubbed her eyes and began to cry, pointing behind them.

The Doctor looked towards the direction and his eyes widened in alarm. "Clara, I think I know who we bumped into." On the sand lay an overweight man in a leather jacket; he carried a knife and rope on his person.

"Let's get her inside!" Clara declared, helping the girl up. "My name's Clara, what's yours?"

"My name's..." the blonde began in an American accent. "My name's..." she continued, as if struggling. "Oh, God! I don't know!" she cried, before the stress and the heat ganged upon her sweat filled skin, rendering her unconscious.

/

The girl woke up with a splitting headache, as her eyes adjusted to the moderately lit room. Ironically, the futon bed that she lay on was so comforting that it hurt; she grimaced as she sat up to let her eyes adjust. She no longer felt hot and it was refreshing to have a fan cool her from above, with a gentle breeze. She seemed to be in an office suite with a kitchen worktop on the right.

To her shock and horror, a man with sleek jet black hair, light blue shirt and black trousers was spinning around in an office chair.

Suddenly, he stopped and stood up, clapping his hands together. "Hello! How are you feeling?"

The girl recoiled slightly; this man had to be mad, like he had escaped from an asylum! At the same time, she felt intrigued at who or what he was.

"W-who are you?" the girl stammered. "And where am I?"

"Not to worry, I'm the Doctor!"

"Doctor who?"

"No, he's just the Doctor," a female voice from the left answered. A petite dark haired girl, who had her hair tied in a pony tail and white head band and wore a blue sleeveless floral tunic and black trousers, propped herself next to the blonde.

"You're Clara, right?" the girl recalled.

Clara's smile widened. "That's right, you remember! What's your name?" She spoke in an English accent, like the Doctor but there was something different.

The blonde struggled to remember, but after a few moments she burst into tears. "I don't know who I am!"

"Hey, honey, it's OK!' Clara comforted, putting an arm around her. "Sssshh, it's fine if you can't remember."

"How can you say that?" sobbed the girl.

"You will, when the time is right, I promise," Clara said warmly. "How about we call you Charlotte for the time being?"

"Why?" the Doctor enquired, before the blonde could.

"Oh because she's wearing a Charlotte Bobcats t-shirt," Clara replied with bubbliness. "And I think it's a nice name, for you for the time being.

"OK," Charlotte agreed, cracking a smile through her tears.

"I think I know what can help you feel better- how about a warm cup of tea?" Clara offered. She beamed as Charlotte nodded weakly. "Doctor, could you be a star and make us all a cuppa?"

The Doctor leaned against the worktops and let out a placid and thoughtful laugh, before nodding. "Yes ma'am," he croaked in awe.

He cleared his throat, after putting the kettle on. "So Charlotte, could you tell us the last thing you can remember?"

Charlotte bit her lip and her eyes began watering again. "I don't know, just that I was being chased through the desert... I think... there was someone with me... my Mom maybe."

"Could you describe your Mum, for me?" Clara prompted.

Charlotte struggled some more, but she shook her head. "I can't remember... why has this happened to me? Did something terrible happen to me or did I do something I'm trying to blank out?"

The Doctor passed her a cup of tea, which she graciously sipped. He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Charlotte the Bobcat, I promise you that we will get to the bottom of this," he pledged.

Charlotte sniffed and nodded again. "Where am I exactly?"

"You're in one of the rooms in my ship, called the TARDIS- Time and Relative Dimension in Space!" the Doctor replied proudly.

Charlotte let out a brief chuckle. "What, the little blue police box? Next you'll be telling me that it's bigger on the inside! I wasn't that drowsy, you know!"

"Actually..." Clara corrected.

"Excuse me, Charlotte, I just need to check you for something," the Doctor exclaimed, pulling out what looked like a metal pen, which made a squeaking sound as he scanned it over her. "Just checking you for signs of solarsander contamination. No, all clear!"

Charlotte chuckled again; even though she had just met these people and she was scared, part of her felt like she could trust them. The Doctor was a complete joker, but he seemed genuine enough, besides how else could she find out who she was without them?

/

"Clara, I think you should see this," the Doctor advised. While Charlotte was having a shower, Clara and the Doctor were in the TARDIS control room, eager to input the scanned details into the Encyclopaedia Database.

"What's up?" Clara asked, edging towards the computer screen, which captured and projected two images of a blonde girl- presumably a younger and modern day Charlotte. One thing really caught her eye and made her grin in surprise. "Charlotte Anne Jane, well I suppose we guessed her first name, right Doctor?"

"There's more," he nodded grimly.

Apprehensively, Clara began reading further. "She apparently died? Ten years ago? That can't be right, can it?"

"No, Clara, something's definitely not right." He frowned and paced the control deck. "I scanned and incorporated a bit of her DNA, so that is definitely her!"

"What happened to her?" Clara whispered, scrolling further.

"Clara," the Doctor swallowed, with a sad look in his eyes, as if the truth was something he wanted to protect her from.

Clara sensed that something was gravely wrong, it filled her stomach with dread, but she had to know. An image of a smiley face drawn in red on the wall. It could have passed for a child's drawing, had it not been painted with what Clara knew was blood, which triggered a sinister wave of chills down her spine and arms. She shuddered at the drawing, cuddling her arms. The Doctor held her shoulders and massaged them.

"It's OK if you don't want to read any more," he whispered, almost pleadingly.

But Clara, being who she was, had to know, despite the nagging feeling that she would regret finding out. There was a note that had been found taped to the door leading to the crime scene.

_"Dear Mr Jane," _Clara began reading. _"I do not like to slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money grubbing fraud. If you were a real psychic, instead of a dirty little worm..." _her voice trailed off and she could not finish the rest. _Then you would not need to open the door to see what I've done to your lovely wife and child._

_Red John_


End file.
